


Ring of Fire

by Acidqueen (syredronning)



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: ASCEM, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-23
Updated: 2010-09-23
Packaged: 2017-10-12 03:22:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/120229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syredronning/pseuds/Acidqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes things are not as they seem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ring of Fire

**Author's Note:**

> For Stephen's Country Song Challenge in ASCEM. Don't you just love to wake up with a song and a complete story in your head? "Ring of Fire" courtesy of the late Johnny Cash.
> 
> Many thanks to Cait N. for the beta! All remaining errors are mine :)
> 
> Originally posted June 2006.

Something was wrong; everything was wrong. But everything was in nice colors, even though they were blurred and spinning in his mind. There were drums, somewhere, and his head joined the rhythm, a steady beating against the inner side of his skull. It might just fall apart and spill his brain out to the ground that was right below his head.

Below.

He looked down and saw a sky, lilac clouds hugging a yellow moon. There were feet, too, and quite red, a color that didn't go well with the lilac.

He looked up again and there was a dark ground. If he fell, he'd hit his head. But he didn't fall because he was tied up. He was tied up because....he had no idea. He should feel sick but he didn't, really, even with the steady beating in his skull. The colors were so nice, now that there was suddenly so much more red. A cozy red.

It flickered. It reminded him of something good.

There were dark stripes moving left and right, firmly hanging from the ground like puppets. He wondered who had choreographed that little dance. It didn't really have a rhythm. It should have a rhythm. Like the beating inside his skull. Something dripped over his lids; someone was spilling something on him from below...? It was hard to look at the lilac, the red was much easier on him. He let his head drop back. It had to be his own body because the sky was lilac and empty.

The dark stripes moved, and one was in front of the red and it went bigger and bigger and became...  
Spock.

Another dark stripe, and then he felt...hands. No. A mouth.

It was so warm.

He closed his eyes on the red, but it kept growing in his mind, like a solid ring rotating in his beating skull.

It was hot. Up and below and inside. Something was wrong. No. Right.

The ring tightened. He gasped; he gulped. He opened his eyes and there were dark stripes in front of his eyes and small red lines around it. The heat imploded and then everything went black.

 

His world turned, and turned again, and there was a lilac sky when he opened his eyes. There was also a face, and it was above him.

Above.

Something moved; he moved, because he was carried. His left arm clutched his savior's shoulder. He wanted to say something, anything. But nothing came out.

"Doctor, you are safe now. We will be back at the ship shortly."

He nodded. It made it his head spin, and he closed his eyes again. But there was a funny little thought in the back of his mind, and it wanted to come out so badly.

"You," he forced out, "sucked....me...off." He smiled.

The arms that carried him tightened, the movements becoming shakier.

"Do not overexert yourself, doctor."

He wanted to say thanks so badly, but it turned black again.

 

The world turned and turned and kept turning until he opened his eyes to grey. Gray above and gray at his sides and two dark stripes in front of him.

"He's coming around."

"Bones! Bones, do you hear me?"

Fingers clicked in front of his eyes. It made him nervous.

"Jim..." he croaked.

Thankfully, the fingers vanished from his vision. Instead, Jim Kirk's face appeared.

"Bones. It's good to have you back." He felt his hand held and squeezed. Funny, he missed the red.

"What happened?" he whispered.

"You were captured by the natives, and they wanted to turn you into Guy Fawkes."

"Who?"

"They wanted to burn you."

"Upside down...?"

"Yeah. They believe that this way, the soul of the enemy will be driven into the ground, instead of leaving into   
the sky and coming back for revenge later."

McCoy's lids dropped.

"It was quite a sight, you in the middle of this burning ring, bloody dirt and ashes all over you. And with the Prime Directive in effect, we didn't know what to do at first. But then that girl went into the ring to claim you."

That made him open his eyes again, and he stared at Kirk.

"Girl? I thought it was..." He stopped.

"Who?"

"Forget it. What about the girl?"

"There was obviously a ritual that any captive can be claimed by a local woman. And she did that." Kirk grinned.

"Sucked you off right there. I bet it must have felt great."

"Didn't really get it when it happened. Wasn't quite myself," McCoy murmured.

Chapel moved into his vision, obviously taking pity on him.

"Of course, doctor. With your concussion, the blood loss, and hanging upside down in a ring of fire, it's no wonder your perception of the events was foggy."

There was one thing left to ask. "At one time I woke up and Spock was carrying me...?"

"Yes," Kirk said, "when the girl had succeeded, they got you out of the ring and into a nearby tent, from where we finally managed to free you. Spock carried you through the woods until we were out of their sight and could beam up."

He probably should feel good, but he didn't.

"Go to sleep, Len," Christine said.

McCoy nodded and drifted away, dreaming of red.

 

He met Spock in the turbolift one day later, just when he was discharged from Sickbay and on his way to his cabin.

"Spock," he said with a little nod.

"Doctor," Spock said. "I'm pleased to see that you have already recovered from your injuries."

"Yeah." The lift was empty. It was now or never.

"Spock..." McCoy cleared his throat. "About what I said to you...there in that ring, I really thought it had been you."

"You were hallucinating, doctor. As was to be expected under the circumstances."

"Right. But you didn't tell me that you didn't."

Spock looked at him, eyes guarded. "You were confused. It wasn't the right time for a discussion."

"Well..." McCoy stared down on the floor for a second, then up to meet Spock's gaze. "I wouldn't have minded if it had been you."

The turbolift came to a halt, and McCoy turned to leave. He was already out of the door when he heard the quiet words, probably not intended for his ears...or were they?

"And I wouldn't have minded if you had never learned the truth."


End file.
